


Little Saint Nick

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [46]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Smut, Drunken Shenanigans, Foreplay, M/M, Porn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick and Greg exchange Christmas presents.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Prompt Fics [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> from an anon on tumblr: Do you think Nick buys Greg a naughty holiday outfit?
> 
> LMAO so I googled ‘naughty holiday outfit for men’ and was intrigued, but not as pleased with the results, so I changed the wording to ‘sexy holiday outfiit for men’ and uh…well…here we go
> 
> and lol here I was thinking my only nick/greg holiday fic was gonna be a mistletoe fic. I SWEAR, this is not gonna be a Hollow Heart situation, I am gonna finish this one before the holiday season is over 👏

It’s an oddly silent night at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. All is calm, towards the end of a rare shift in which the lab’s employees are able to catch up on long-neglected paperwork. All is bright, under the recently replaced fluorescent lights in the shared office of Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders, though the brightness is dulled as Greg turns off half the lights. Nick looks up from his paper with bemusement, his lips are puckered together, Greg realizes he derailed Nick from his train of thought. 

“Mood lighting,” Greg shrugs as he returns to his desk, though he doesn’t sit down right away, using the excuse of turning the lights off to deliver an impromptu package to Nick Stokes. 

“Mmm, stealing cars, making little bombs in your spare time, shoulda known a trouble maker like you would go behind my back like this,” Nick growls after Greg tossed him a box that was hastily wrapped, so much so that the tape wasn’t even fully secured. “I thought we weren’t doing presents this year,  _ Gregory.”  _

“Well,  _ Nicholas,  _ I just saw this at the store, and I thought of you and just had to pick it up, rules be damned,” Greg crosses his arms, eyebrows raised, a small  _ hmpf  _ slips through pursed lips as he watches Nick’s narrowed eyebrows raise up. He gets up from his desk, towards the exit to their shared office.

He closes the door.

Locks the door.

Shuts the blinds.

He pivots back to look at Greg with the same stern look that slowly softens into a warm smile, his tongue sticking out every so slightly between his teeth. 

He saunters back to his desk, opens a drawer and pulls out a smaller, but more carefully wrapped box with a ribbon neatly tied on top in the shape of a heart. He looks at it, then at Greg, and his smile gets somehow even wider, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He bounds around the desk, starts as if he was going to walk over to Greg’s just a few feet away--Greg leans forward, his mouth hanging open in anticipation and child-like glee because Nick  _ got him a present even though they said they weren’t doing presents and he’s such a sweet guy ohmygod now we’re gonna kiss!-- _ but instead, Nick takes a few steps back, hops backwards, his legs gently sway off the edge as he shimmies to sit on his desk. He holds up the small box with one hand, uses his finger on the other hand to beckon Greg over. 

Greg wastes no time, nearly trips over his feet as he wedges himself between Nick’s eagle spread legs, reaches for the present but Nick raises it up in the air, waggles his finger in Greg’s face.

“Now, you gotta promise me, you wear this when we get home later.” 

“Only if you wear yours, too,” Greg grins, patting a hand on the still-wrapped present. 

“Deal,” Nick winks, tosses the present up in the air for Greg to catch it as he swivels to open his own. 

As the sound of crinkling wrapping paper drop to the floor, Nick and Greg’s jaws drop along with it, and when they finally breathe again, their air between them hitches into collective giggles. 

“‘Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe,’” Nick reads off of the ugly Christmas sweater Greg gifted to him, with a large arrow pointing downwards to hint at a more saucy intention. “Oh, like you even have to ask.”

“I, uhm, do gotta ask...what is  _ this?”  _ Greg laughs wildly as he opens his present.

“I believe the receipt said ‘Holiday Tidings Jockstrap,’” Nick recounts with a twinkle in his eye as Greg holds up a festive lacy jock strap, his ears burning as red as his cheeks, he wondered when he had gotten to be so...tight. If this had happened ten years ago, he would be slobbering all over Nick on top of his desk without hesitation, excited for the “at work” action...but now, he’s more hesitant, cautious, and more than anything, concerned at Nick’s sudden recklessness in regards to their relationship at the workplace.

Something must be wrong. 

“And  _ you  _ of all people brought it here, to work, where  _ everyone can see?”  _

“It was locked in my drawer! And the door’s locked. And unless Hodges installed hidden cameras when he used to hover around Grissom--”

“Hey, don’t even joke about that, he might’ve--”

“I just figured we’d, uh…” Nick clears his throat. “Maybe...start the  _ festivities  _ a little early, on such a slow night?” 

“Oh,” Greg pulls a pleased expression downward with contemplating lips. His fingers are already walking down Nick’s shirt, prying apart buttons to unwrap his second gift of the evening.

And third, as he reaches Nick’s belt buckle. 

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” Greg asks, as he tugs on the zipper to Nick’s jeans, his fingers sliding through the opening and stroking the bulge that’s still covered with underwear. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nick sighs with pleasure. “Maybe something...like this?” 

He cups Greg’s cheeks in his hands, brings him forward into a tight, passionate kiss. Greg steadies himself by keeping one hand on Nick’s shoulder, the other still sliding in and out of the open zipper.

Nick moans when Greg stops for a moment, mutters a low, “don’t stop there, baby,” that makes Greg whine but it’s getting  _ really  _ hot and he needs to take his jacket off, an observation Nick is able to make even through closed eyes, his hands uncover Greg’s cheeks and work their way down to his jacket, peels it off. The sudden chill on his cheeks and arms as they’re exposed excites Greg, he uses newfound energy to dig his way down Nick’s jeans with his hand, slip in the slit between his briefs. His back arches up and he lurches forward to Nick, who leans back with a grunt--Greg has to press a finger from his free hand to Nick’s lips, because that grunt indicates that he’s about to moan  _ very loudly  _ and they can’t be discovered, can’t even lead anyone to have a  _ suspicion  _ of what Nick and Greg were doing behind closed doors--

“Ahhhh, fuck!” Nick groans. “You’re right. We can’t. Not here.” 

“Glad you’re finally back to your senses,” Greg mutters Nick slides off the desk, re-assembles his clothing. 

“Oh, G, my senses are all over the place. We gotta go.  _ Now.” _

“Your place or mine?” Greg only has to throw on his jacket, and he’s ready. 

“Don’t really care. You’re closer,” Nick tilts his head towards Greg as he buttons up his shirt. 

“Well, if we go to yours’, I can pick up some booze on the way. And maybe a few...candy canes…?” Greg suggests, making a sucking motion with an invisible object between his hands.

Nick’s eyes widen and he nods, mouth agape. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he pants. He quickly grabs the rest of his work, stuffs it in his backpack, and heads to the door. He forgets it’s locked, struggles with the door for a minute--Greg stifles a giggle, watching Nick get all flustered with something as simple as a door knob, and once he manages to get it open, he dives out of the room. He straightens his jacket and walks briskly towards the garage, Greg shakes his head with a grin as he picks up the forgotten present, the ugly Christmas sweater. He can’t hold it against his boyfriend that he forgot his present, he’d be sure to return it in a short amount of time, with another round of presents. 

And after all, Nick was a little more than... _ distracted _ in his hastiness to get home. 


	2. Chapter 2

Nick is a hurricane that tears apart his house in his anticipation of Greg’s arrival. He nearly rips his own clothes off his body before wrestling the ugly Christmas sweater over his body, in a bigger struggle than necessary, but his anticipation is turning quickly into frustration of the sexual nature, he paces back and forth before thrusting open his fridge and shotgunning a beer as he enters his bedroom, tidying up, making the bed that he and Greg had left in disarray the morning before. 

“C’mon, G, where are ya?” he huffs as he bounces from his bedroom to his living room, kneeling on the couch. He has an itch in his crotch that he wants to scratch, but he can’t--if he does, while Greg Sanders is on his mind, he runs the risk of hardening before he can do anything about it. He wouldn’t dare enjoy the pleasure without Greg, after all. 

He giggles gleefully as he sees Greg’s car pull up in the driveway. He rushes to the door, smooths out his ruffled hair, having tousled while biting his lip when he had briefly contemplated calling Greg, but he didn’t want to come off as “clingy” though he was very much starved for connection.

Nick opens the door, but his smile wipes off into a Macaulay Culkin-esque look of terror, as Greg is standing on his front porch with the alcohol and candy canes he promised...wearing nothing but the jockstrap.

“What the  _ hell,  _ G?” Nick growls as he cups a hand around Greg’s neck, pulls him into the house. He twists his grip so that his hand is over Greg’s throat, he can feel the pulsing of his Adam’s apple under his palm, which does nothing but turn him on even more.

“Hey! You said you wanted me to show up wearing this, so I did!” Greg points out with lifted eyebrows as Nick shoves him against the wall, but Greg’s attention diverts to Nick’s cock pointing up at his face. “Although...I get the feeling...You’re not that mad, are you, tough guy?” 

“Shoulda known with that little...exhibitionist kink you got going…” Nick mutters as he releases his friend, grabs one of the bottles of the six pack in tucked under his armpit. 

“You know you love it, too. Now, where’s that mistletoe…”

“Ah, shit. I forgot!” Nick exclaims as he leans against the counter.

“That’s okay, here--”

Greg rushes back out the door, much to Nick’s chagrin, before rushing right back in with a piece from one of Nick’s bushes, and he holds it above their heads.

“Care to do the honors?” Greg asks in a seductive tone.

“Thought this sweater meant you were s’pposed to tend to my gift down there that needs some wrapping?”

“Oh, we’ll get there, just you wait. But, I am the guest…”

“You little shit,” Nick mutters with a smirk as he kisses Greg on his lips. “Love you, though.”

“Mmmm-luh-ove...you...too...Nick…” Greg mutters between the contact of their lips. 

“Alright, my turn,” Nick pokes into Greg’s chest, his fingers dancing down to the jock strap, where he tugs at the strings. “You need some help, there, partner?”

“Yuh-huh,” Greg gulps as he also gulps down a beer. 

“Fol- _ hic!- _ oh me,” Nick slurs as he takes the alcohol out of Greg’s hands, brings it and Greg into the bedroom, where he single-handedly tosses Greg onto the bed. Greg rolls around in a fit of giggles, pulling Nick on top of him with a balled up fist on the sweater.

“I’ll unwrap you if you unwrap me,” he offers to Nick. Nick responds with a peck to his forehead, followed with multiple pecks raining down on his face, interrupted only by the fabric that is pulled over his head.

Once Nick is undressed, he begins to work his kissing down Greg’s neck, down his chest, down his waist until he reaches the jock strap, which tingles at his nostrils with the scent of peppermint and holly--

“They had some small bottles at the liquor store, just dabbed some on,” Greg explains as his hands follow Nick down his body.

“Smells great,” Nick comments.

“Not as great as you.”

“You flatter me,” Nick huffs. “What do you want?”

“Lubeeeeeee,” Greg moans as Nick removes the jock strap, slingshots it to the other end of the room.

“Alright,” Nick nods softly, darting quickly to the bathroom, returning with the tub of lube.

“Almost out,” he notes. 

“Think we’ll have enough for tonight?”

“Oh yeah. Totally.”

He coats his fingers and begins to stroke Greg’s member, lightly coating it as he hums Christmas tunes while Greg chugs down another beer.

“All primed and ready to go,” Nick wipes his hands on the sheets before accepting the beer that Greg offers him.

“Are you?” Greg asks in a serious voice, but Nick only responds by standing up on the bed, turning around, and slowly descending onto Greg’s cock, slowly--and slightly painfully inserting it into his asshole with a loud, drunken groan…

And then, he begins to gently bounce, as Greg tightens his grip on his waist.

“Little Saint Nick, riding on a dick…” Greg belts out loudly, over Nick’s moans, which makes Nick laugh as he increases the speed of his “ride.” 

“Harder, G!” he shouts in a cracked voice. 

“Hey, I’m giving it all she’s got, Captain!” Greg shouts back in a poorly imitated Scottish accent.

“What?”

“Star Trek, don’t worry ‘bout it, just lemme keep fucking--”

“You’ve been hanging out with Archie too much--”

“Niiiiiiiiiiick!” Greg shouts as he reaches a climax, and Nick answers the call, his bouncing becomes faster and more furious, until--

“Ahhhhhhh,” Greg sighs, sinking into the pillows and mattress, his hands falling from Nick’s pelvis onto the sheets below. “Fuck, man! That was  _ amazing.” _

“Tell me about it,” Nick groans as he detaches himself, then crawls onto Greg, resting his head on his chest. Greg flings one of his hands onto the side of Nick’s face, stroking the sweating flesh. 

“I love you, Nick Stokes.”

“I love you, too, Greg Sanders.”

“Merry Christmass,” Greg pants as he fumbles for yet another bottle, it falls over the sidetable, but Nick somehow manages to catch it through his exhaustion.

“Oh, yours is better than mine, I can assure you…”

“Wha’ d’you mean?” Greg slurs.

“You said Merry Christm- _ ass,  _ thought you ‘ere...referring to my...ass…”

“Oh,” Greg sputters into a laugh with a red face. “I mean, yeah, you gotta great ass, love how your mind just...instantly goes there.” 

“Well, what can I say?” Nick raises an eyebrow as he lifts his head to look at Greg with a developing smile. “I  _ am  _ an ass man.”


End file.
